


The Things She'll Never Know

by ThexInvisiblexGirl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Hamilton Lyrics, Hamilton References, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, MSR, Season/Series 10, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThexInvisiblexGirl/pseuds/ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: While on the road, Mulder, an avid Hamilton fan, makes Scully listen to the cast recording. Somehow it doesn't go as planned... or does it?
Kudos: 11





	The Things She'll Never Know

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had for a while, but as I was writing it, it turned out darker than I'd initially envisioned. I feel very lucky to have seen Hamilton onstage before wretched 2020 has put the world into a standstill. Knowing the cast recording should be enough to understand the references throughout here. Happy reading!

**Summer 2016**

He entered the rental car with a sigh, mentally preparing himself for the long journey ahead. The car seemed new, and so he hoped the air conditioning would prove to be reliable, for it was nine in the morning and already sweltering. He eyed the steering wheel with some reluctance. Once upon a time he was thrilled by the notion of driving across wasteland and fields towards places unknown. Now the distance wearied him, his thoughts lingered not on the drive ahead but rather on what awaited at the end of the road – a decent meal and, if he was lucky, a warm shower.

The passenger door opened and his frown softened into a smile as Scully sat beside him. At least with her by his side, this drive to Nowhere, Pennsylvania wouldn't be a total disaster. But Scully wasn't herself these days. The death of her mother six months prior had hit her hard, and the loss was still evident on her face, in her demeanor, despite her mighty effort to conceal it. He wasn't sure whom she was putting on that brave act for. He had equally mourned the passing of Mrs. Scully, who had always treated him like another son. Her absence pained him still. To see Scully so morose and withdrawn was unsettling. While he seemed unable to lift her spirits, he was determined to keep trying.

"Ready to go?" she asked, handing him the cup of coffee she got him while he was filling in the paperwork for the car. Once both cups were safely tucked in the cup holder between them, she settled more comfortably in her seat, pointlessly straightening a crease on her charcoal pants, which would surely get even more creased within the hour. Even she, usually so prim and proper even on the way to and from a case, had already succumbed to the heat and shed her jacket, draping it across the backseat. She rolled the sleeves of her blouse to her elbows and glanced at him, the question lingering in her eyes.

"Yes, but first," he said as an idea struck him. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his music library. From the corner of his eye he noticed Scully's eyebrow quirk up, curious despite herself.

"What are you doing?"

"If we're going on a road trip, we'd better do this right."

"We're driving to a godforsaken town in Pennsylvania to investigate a series of gruesome murders, Mulder, I would hardly call it a road trip," she chastised, rolling her eyes in a way that years ago might have irked him, but now made his heart swell with nostalgia.

"I know. But we're officially not on the case until we get there, therefore..." He found the album he'd been looking for and looked up at her with a victorious grin. "We need some proper music."

"Oh, no," she scoffed, clearly reminded of old time drives and musical sparring. Oh, the merry nineties.

"Oh, yes," he nodded, refusing to let her attitude deflate his enthusiasm. "Come on, Scully. It's a three hour drive if traffic is kind to us, and I really don't feel like discussing this case before I absolutely have to."

She heaved a sigh of defeat. "Fine." She reached for her coffee and took a long sip. "Dare I ask what have you had in mind?"

He tried not to look too smug over her swift defeat. "We're listening to Hamilton." She made a whole show of chocking on her drink, then eyed him doubtfully. He shrugged in self defense. "What, is a musical about American history which has won literally every prize out there within the first year since its conception, the Pulitzer included, not good enough for you?"

"Since when are you into musicals, Mulder?" she asked slowly, looking at him as if he had finally lost it.

"Have you ever listened to it?"

"Are you answering my question with a question?"

"Well, have you?"

"I heard _of_ it, I don't think there's anyone who hasn't."

"Because it's a masterpiece," he reiterated. She still looked skeptic. To be honest though, she wouldn't be his Scully if she didn't. "It's genius, the best thing ever."

"I never thought you had it in you to sound like a teenage fangirl, Mulder," she mused. There was a hint of a smile stubbornly hidden beneath her condescending smirk. This was going well, despite her attempt to give him a hard time.

"Maybe we should discuss your unhealthy obsession with Downton Abbey instead," he offered casually, knowing exactly what such a statement would entail.

"Don't you dare!" she breathed, outraged. "Downton Abbey is off limits as far as you're concerned. I refuse to let you ruin it for me."

He was instantly reminded of the excruciating experience of watching entire episodes with her, before she left. Now it felt like a lifetime ago. He shook his head, sending the grim thought away. "What's ruined is my intellect as a result of watching these few episodes. Is it still on? Has it improved since then?"

"It's finished now, thank you very much, but if you're curious, I'll get you the box set for Christmas," she retorted sweetly.

"Jesus, _a box set_." He didn't even need to feign the shudder of horror that coursed through him. An actual giggle escaped her lips; he tried to conceal his delight. It had been too long since he'd heard her laugh properly. "So are we doing this?" he prodded, flashing a broad smile at her.

"You won't let it go until we do, will you?"

"Aww, Scully, you know me so well."

"That I do, Mulder," she replied wearily.

"Are you ready to have your life changed?"

"Dramatic much, Mulder?" She couldn't roll her eyes enough. "Just hit Play, will you?"

"It will be my pleasure," he replied, and did as he was told, letting the booming opening chords fill the car. And then they were off.

* * *

He was stealing glances at her every now and again throughout the first few songs. She was listening intently, occasionally sipping her coffee, leaving behind a delicious berry-colored smudge. Her face gave nothing away, her lips remained pursed, as if she was determined not to give him the satisfaction in telling her _I told you so_. But then The Schuyler Sisters began with a vengeance, and that she couldn't resist. She was nodding her head to Angelica's swift rapping almost without realizing it, and her smile of approval at including women in the sequel soon shifted into a sheepish grin when she looked sideways and caught him looking at her.

"Right?" he asked, and her smile widened in wordless agreement. He turned up the volume as the song reached its crescendo, and he couldn't help but join in the rapping, as awful at it as he admittedly was. From then on in, he knew he had her attention. Although she didn't comment on any of the next few songs, that tiny smile stuck to the corner of her lips.

And then Satisfied came on.

It wasn't easy to get it all from a first listen, and he could see she was trying to piece it all together as the song progressed. By the final chorus, when Angelica's sad tale came full circle, he couldn't resist another glance at her. She seemed deeply moved, if not somewhat stunned. Without acknowledging his stares she reached for his phone, and waited for the final notes of the song to die out before hitting Pause.

"Need a minute?" he guessed, remembering all too well the first time he listened to it.

She nodded, looking staggered. Then she slowly raised her eyes to meet his. "That was... quite clever."

He nodded in agreement. "That song alone should have won them the Tony. Genius."

"Fangirl," she scoffed halfheartedly.

"But...?" he pressed, wanting to hear her say it.

"But it's good," she admitted. He was finding it exceptionally difficult not to gloat, and of course she was on to him in half a second. "Do you want to get it out of your system or can we listen to the rest of it now?"

* * *

They let Act One finish with all its Non Stop flourish before venturing to a diner they had come across for breakfast and a much needed bathroom break. Scully was still nowhere around the diner when he returned from the bathroom, and so he situated himself in a booth, stretching his legs underneath the table as he perused the menu. He looked up at the familiar echo of her heels against the linoleum, and smiled when their eyes met. She seemed better than she did upon getting into the car that morning, and there was this glimmer in her eyes now, for which he was grateful.

"So, umm, I hope you're not suffering through that cast recording only for my sake," he said for good measure once a young waitress disappeared with their orders.

"Are you trying to get more compliments out of me? If I suffered, you would have known much earlier on."

"True enough, I guess," he shrugged.

Another waitress appeared with two glasses of icy water and placed them in front of them. They thanked her and he took a sip of his. The ice went straight to his head.

"So how did you find it? This cast recording you think I'm suffering through," she added with a teasing grin.

"It was a few months ago. I sort of stumbled over it online one night. I don't sleep much, as you well remember." And then he remembered telling her once that he'd always slept best with her by his side. A shadow of emotion momentarily dimmed her expression; she obviously remembered him saying it, as well. He cleared his throat, hoping to avoid an awkward moment. "Anyway, after listening to it, I started reading more about how it came to be, and finally got the cast recording a few months back as a Christmas present for myself." That answer seemed to surprise her; they had been back on the road for several months now and he never mentioned it once. He didn't need to her to utter the words in order to know what she was wondering. "I wanted to delve into it some more before sharing it with you. Make sure it's worth your time, so you don't give me hell."

She stared at him in feigned shock. "I would never..."

"The Great Wrath of 1997," he cut her off, grateful that his memory didn't betray him in his hour of need.

Shockingly, she seemed to know exactly what he was referring to. "That was some shitty Scandinavian heavy metal band you found who knew where and it was awful, Mulder, it was making my ears bleed!" Then she caught herself, and a nostalgic smile softened her features. "We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

A bitter chuckle escaped him despite himself. What an understatement that was. Her hand was so close; he resisted the urge to grasp it in his own, to lace their fingers together, a motion as easy for him as breathing, not that long ago. They had gotten closer recently, slowly finding their way back to one another, but he didn't want to make assumptions or do anything that would risk that delicate balance between the personal and the professional. The arrival of their food saved him the mental torment, and they slipped into the comfortable and familiar routine of sharing a meal on the road.

* * *

Breakfast finished, they resumed their drive, both now eager to delve into Act Two. She laughed through Take a Break, saying it reminded her of his own reluctance to take time off, marveled at The Room Where It Happened and was rightfully touched by Burn. Nonetheless, as the songs progressed, he was beginning to regret his insistence she would listen to the cast recording, knowing which sequence, which song, was looming ahead. But it was too late to dissuade her from listening, and so he sat there cursing himself and letting his dread build. She remained oblivious to his distress, now openly enjoying herself, and he took in her every smile, every word of praise, cherishing them while knowing what lay ahead.

"Maybe we should..." he tried as Burn ended, but she shushed him with a swat of her hand. He smiled sadly in certain defeat; he brought this onto himself, really.

He didn't dare glance at her when the reprise of Stay Alive came on. Instead he was trying to keep his own mind on the right track. He had fought hard to put this matter behind him, as he had told Scully some months ago, but his resolve crumbled into nothing when he first heard this song. It wasn't the same, he told himself over and over, as he had always done since that first time. But his memory pulled him back to that chilly day by the lake, when they sat there with her mother's ashes and had the first true conversation about their son in over a decade.

He stared straight ahead as the song concluded, the heartbeat motif slowly fading, then stopping altogether. The inside of the car suddenly felt incredibly cramped, the silence piercing. Before he could decide whether or not to say anything, It's Quiet Uptown began with that soft piano sound. This song had always made him think of his son, even more so than its predecessor. The circumstances couldn't be more different – as far as they knew (or wanted to believe, in any case), William was alive and protected someplace, but it didn't make his loss, his absence in their lives, less poignant. He took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. With her sitting there the words were more apt than ever, searing into his flesh.

_If I could spare his life_

_If I could trade his life for mine_

_He'd be standing here right now_

_And you would smile and that would be enough..._

At a sound of a chocked gasp by his side, he stole a glance at her. Like him, she was looking ahead, and there were silent tears streaming down her face. It was hard to fathom how something that happened years ago, decades really, could still affect a person with such intensity. He would never truly know the severity of the scars left behind. It had been a while since he had seen her cry, especially where William was concerned. He reached out a hand to her, and she grasped it without a word, crying silently. This simple touch alone was enough to make him feel more grounded, to keep his own tears at bay.

He thought of all the things she would never know. How the lyrics perfectly echoed his inner turmoil. That he _would_ have done anything so that she didn't have to lose the one thing she had yearned for for so long. How he sobbed in his prison cell after learning the truth from Skinner. The nightmares about William being taken, causing him to wake up in cold sweat. The baby photo he still kept on his person at all times. And most of all, how, shortly after Margaret Scully's death, he had their son's name tattooed just over his heart.

When the song ended he hit Pause, not waiting for her to do so, then stopped the car at the side of the road. He didn't say anything, just let her quiet sobs subside. When he tried to let go of her hand she squeezed his in wordless protest, and so he kept holding her, his thumb drawing small circles against her skin. He cleared his throat, not even knowing where to start.

"I'm sorry," he murmured eventually. "I wasn't thinking – "

"Don't. It's okay. I'm the idiot." He stared at her incredulously, curious to see how she could possibly take the blame for this one. "To get all worked up over a song. I should know better. Who does that?"

"A human being." She scoffed in protest, then opened the glove compartment, in search for a tissue, he assumed. She sat back in dismay when she remembered it was a rental. "I'll open the trunk," he said quietly. She nodded and went outside to find what she needed in her suitcase.

He wondered if things would ever be the same again. Their moments of happiness – of complete, unadulterated bliss – seemed so fleeting. They spent so little time as an actual family before their lives changed forever. In retrospect he thought that things had never been right again not only in recent years, but from the moment she was forced to give up their son. They tried to handle the loss the best they could upon their reunion, but they were always broken; there was no fixing that. Only pretend that everything was fine. Something was always missing, would always be missing.

When Scully returned a moment later, she had her makeup bag with her. He took a few more steadying breaths as she reapplied lipstick and dabbed a tissue under her eyes. She seemed composed enough, but he wished – not for the first time – he knew what she was really thinking. "So that was interesting," she broke the silence at last, glancing sideways at him with a hint of a smirk.

"That's one way to put it," he asserted. "I really am sorry, you know," he said quietly, holding her gaze. "Not just for the song."

"I know," she nodded. "I'm sorry too." He watched, transfixed, as she reached out to touch his cheek. He wrapped his hand around hers, and they just sat there a while, with these unspoken words and emotions between them, one in their pain. Then, slowly, she let go of his cheek. "Enough," she said, almost whispered. "That's enough now."

He brought his hand instead to the back of her neck, pulling her against him the best he could with the console and seatbelts between them. He pressed his lips to her temple for a moment, let them brush lightly on her cheek, then the corner of her lips. He was all but holding his breath, waiting for her to push him off, but she didn't. To his surprise, her lips parted ever so slightly in invitation, and they shared a brief kiss, born out of their shared grief, their mutual need for comfort. His heart was racing when they slowly pulled away, not knowing what he would find in her eyes, but she was smiling softly at him, gently wiping lipstick off his bottom lip with her thumb. They just looked at one another for a long moment, as if taking in what had just happened.

"Do you want to listen to the rest? That was the worst of it, I promise."

She chuckled darkly, but nodded. He took another deep breath, feeling as if he had just ran a marathon, then hit Play and put the car back on drive.

* * *

The rest of the journey was uneventful. They entered the town shortly after the cast recording was concluded, and spoke very little as they found their motel and checked in. It was almost two in the afternoon, and both being weary from the drive and the weather, they agreed to get some rest and reconvene for early dinner in two hours. He smiled fondly at her as they opened their respective doors side by side, remembering times when they dropped their luggage and went straight to the crime scene. _Back in the day_ was how Scully had referred to it. Now he couldn't think of anything besides his aching joints, and how he craved some shuteye.

He was about to step inside his room when he heard her call out his name.

"Maybe we should go see it on Broadway sometime."

"What, Hamilton?"

"Yeah."

He pretended to do a double take, staring at her in shock. "Are you asking me on a date, Agent Scully?"

"Maybe," she grinned unabashedly. There was some color back in her cheeks now, he noticed with some relief.

"Well, given the tickets' prices and high demand, this may take some time."

"I have time," she replied, her lips curl in an affectionate smile.

He nodded slowly, thinking how this was about the last thing he thought would happen when he introduced that cast recording to her that morning. "Okay," he agreed. "It's a date," he added, liking the sound of it.

"Great." She shook her head, then pushed her door open, sending one last glance his way from over her shoulder. "See you in a couple of hours."

Yes, there were things she would never know. That he loved her so much more than he had ever let on, so much that the intensity of it was staggering at times. How long he had been craving that kiss they just shared on the road. That he would subject himself to all the Downton Abbey episodes in the world if it meant he would get a chance to be happy beside her. But this moment right here, it gave him hope, something to hold on to. He didn't know what the future held, but there was reason for optimism. And for the time being, that would be enough.

Another line from the cast recording popped into his head.

_If you love this woman, go get her! What are you waiting for?_

Smiling knowingly for himself, he let the door shut behind him.


End file.
